Saturday, December 23, 2017

Two
days to Christmas. Yes, I know, it’s SO HARD to get any writing done this time
of year. I’m not putting any pressure on you, I swear!

But
there is something that almost all of us do this time of year that we can
actually turn into an almost miraculous, (as it were) two-and-a-half hour
session on writing.

We sit
down with the family (or with a bottle of champagne) and watch It’s a
Wonderful Life.

Anyone
who’s read my books and blog knows that I’m all about using movies to learn the
craft of writing – not just screenwriting, but very much novels, too. And like
the other classic anti-totalitarian movie of the WWII era, The Wizard of Oz,
this is much much more than a feel-good fantasy.

The
story packs a staggering emotional and thematic impact on young and old (I used
to show it to the incarcerated gang kids I taught in the Los Angeles County
prison system, and it always bowled them over – they GOT it.

And
there’s no better film to watch (and watch again, and again, and again) to
internalize some of the most basic lessons of powerful storytelling. So this
year, why not do a few minutes of prep before the movie and resolve to look out
for how the filmmakers handle these KEY STORY ELEMENTS:

One of
the most important steps of creating a story, from the very beginning, is
identifying the protagonist’s overall DESIRE and NEED in the story. You also
hear this called “internal desire” and “external desire,” and “want” and “deep
need” — but it’s all the same thing. A strong main character will want
something immediately, like to get that promotion or to get the love interest
into bed. But there’s something underneath that surface want that is really
driving the character, and in good characters, almost always, those inner
and outer desires are in conflict. Also, the character will know
that s/he wants that outer desire, but will probably have very little idea that
what she really needs is the inner desire.

So
you, the writer, have to know your character’s inner and outer desires and how
they conflict.

It’s A
Wonderful Life is one of the greatest filmic examples of inner and outer
desire in conflict. From the very beginning, George wants to see the
world, to do big things, design big buildings: all very male, external,
explosive goals. But his deep need is to become a good man and community
leader like his father, who does big things and fights big battles — on a
microcosmic level, in their tiny, “boring” little community of Bedford Falls,
which George can’t wait to escape.

Every
choice George actually makes in the story defers his external need to escape
and ties him closer to the community that he becomes the moral leader of, as he
takes on his late father’s role and battles the town’s would-be dictator, Mr.
Potter. George does not take on that role happily — he fights it every single
step of the way and resents it a good bit of the time. But it’s that conflict
which makes George such a great character that we emphasize with. It’s a story
of how an ordinary man becomes a true hero.

STATEMENT
OF THEME:

A
reader or audience will get restless if they don’t have a good idea of what the
story is within the first five (I’d even say three) minutes of a movie, or the
first twenty pages of a book. Sometimes it’s enough to have just a sense of the
central conflict. But often, good storytellers will make it perfectly clear
what the theme of the story is, and very early on in the story. In the
first act of It’s a Wonderful Life, in that scene in which George is
impatient to leave pokey little Bedford Falls and go out in the world to “do
big things,” George’s father tells him that in their own small way, he feels
they are doing big things at the Building and Loan; they’re satisfying
one of the most basic needs of human beings by helping them own their own
homes. This is a lovely statement of the theme of the movie: that it’s the
ordinary, seemingly mundane acts that we do every day that add up to a heroic
life.

And by
the way – this theme is overtly stated in our very first glimpse of the adult
George:

INTRODUCTION
OF THE MAIN CHARACTER:

“Nope,
nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. I want a big one.”

And freeze frame
on that hand span… a fabulous, funny, sexy introduction. (That big, huh? Mmm.)
This intro goes on to tell us something about George Bailey’s outer DESIRE
line: he wants to do big things, build big things, everything big. In fact, the
story will be about how all the little things George does in his life
will add up to something more than simply big, but truly enormous.

HOPE/FEAR
and STAKES

Just
as good storytellers will be sure to make it perfectly clear what the main
character’s inner and outer desires are, these storytellers will also be very
clear about what we HOPE and FEAR for the main character. Generally, what we
hope for the character is the same as her or his INNER NEED. In It’s a
Wonderful Life, we hope George Bailey will defeat Mr. Potter. We fear
Potter will drive George and his family into ruin (and George possibly to
suicide). Our fear for the character should be the absolute worst-case
scenario: in a drama, mystery, or thriller we’re talking madness, suicide,
death, ruin, or even the end of the world. (This is also what is AT STAKE). In
a comedy or romance, the stakes are more likely the loss of love.

THE
ANTAGONIST

The
person whom the protagonist is fighting is often a dark mirror of the
protagonist; in many stories we see that it wouldn’t take much for the hero/ine
to become the antagonist, metaphorically speaking. The hero/ine and the
antagonist often want the same thing, whether it’s an actual object,
like the lost Ark of the Covenant or the Maltese Falcon; or money; or a power,
like control of a town in It’s A Wonderful Life) or control of a country
(The Lion in Winter) or control of a family (Another Part of the
Forest); or a person: a child (Kramer Vs. Kramer) or a lover
(five billion romantic comedies).

And sometimes the only thing that
distinguishes the protagonist from the antagonist is what methods they’re
willing to use to get what they want; the hero/ine, we hope, is moral about it
(though the hero/ine crossing a moral line is almost an inevitable part of any
story), and the antagonist is willing to lie, cheat, hurt, or kill for it.

Of
course Potter is a wonderfully evil villain, perfectly played as a huge human
spider by the great Lionel Barrymore. The deal with the devil scene in which he
almost – almost succeeds in getting George to sign his soul away is a
masterpiece all on its own. But what’s particularly interesting about IAWL is
that the battle is taking place on several different levels – in George’s
massive internal conflict, the particular antagonist of Mr. Potter - but the
real opponent is bigger. George is not just fighting Mr. Potter, but a whole
way of life that is anti-community, that destroys community and individuality. It’s
a Wonderful Life, like The Wizard of Oz, is an anti-totalitarian
statement made in the midst of a massive battle against totalitarian forces of
World War II.

And
couldn’t we all use that, right now?

FINAL
BATTLE:

This
is not the classic “hero confronts villain on villain’s home turf” third act.
In fact, Potter is nowhere around in the final confrontation, is he? There’s no
showdown, even though we desperately want one. There’s not even a hint that
Potter will be punished in any way for essentially stealing the Building and
Loan money from Uncle Billy and then compelling the police to arrest George for
the theft.

But
the point is that George Bailey has been fighting Potter all along.

There
is no big glorious heroic showdown to be had, here, because it’s all the little
grueling day-to-day, crazy-making battles that George has had with Potter all
his life that have made the difference. And the genius of this film is that it
shows in vivid and emotionally wrenching detail what would have happened if
George had not had that whole lifetime of battles against Potter and for the
town. Every single encounter George Bailey has had throughout the film is an
example of a small, ordinary goodness, a right choice that George makes, that
in the end, when we and he see the town as it would have been if he had never
existed, lets us understand that it is those little things that make for true
heroism. In the end, even faced with prison, George makes the choice to live to
fight another day, and is rewarded with the joy of seeing his town restored.

This
is the best example I know of, ever, of a final battle that is thematic — and
yet the impact is emotional and visceral. It’s not an intellectual treatise;
you live that ending along with George, but also come away with the
sense of what true heroism is.

It’s A
Wonderful Life is also a terrific example of emotional exhilaration in a
climax. Once George Bailey has seen what would have happened to his little town
if he had never been born, and he decides he wants to live and realizes he is
alive again, the pleasures just keep coming and coming and coming. It is as much
a relief for us as for George, to experience him running through town, seeing
all his old friends and familiar places restored. And then to see the whole
town gathering at his house to help him, one character after another appearing
to lend money to pay off his debt, Violet deciding to stay in town, his old
friend Sam wiring him a promise of as much money as he needs – the whole thing
makes the audience glad to be alive, too. We feel, as George does, that the
little things we do every day do count.

This
is a great lesson, I think, that above all in an ending, the reader/audience
has to CARE. A good ending has an emotional payoff, and it has to be
proportionate to what the character and the reader/audience has experienced.

There’s
so much more I could say (and have said!) about this film and all the story
elements of it, but yes, time is short and shopping lists are long. At least now you
have a chance to do some writing work while it looks like you’re playing – one
of my favorite writerly tricks.

It’s
been a brutal year, but it really is a wonderful life. Definitely worth fighting for.

-- Alex

=====================================================

a All the information on this blog and more is available in my Screenwriting Tricks for Authors workbooks.

STEALING HOLLYWOOD

This new workbook updates all the text in the first Screenwriting Tricks for Authors ebook with all the many tricks I’ve learned over my last few years of writing and teaching—and doubles the material of the first book, as well as adding sixmore full story breakdowns.

Friday, December 22, 2017

It’s Solstice, a powerful time to set intentions. Yes, I
know you have Christmas shopping to do. Quite possibly some cooking, if that’s
what you’re into. We could all do some cleaning. And almost undoubtedly there's family,
which this year might be more fraught than usual.

(Also taxes. I hate to even bring it up, but that whole
travesty wasn’t MY idea - and now we have to live with it. You may want to give
this a quick read: Hacking the Tax Plan.)

But still. Even with all of the above - there’s a reason we
traditionally write resolutions at this time of year. Sow some seeds that will
blossom for you in 2018/ Take a minute, or an hour, to BE still, and answer the
questions for yourself:

What next? What do I want for the coming year? What does it
look like for me?

And of course, I have some questions specifically for the
writers.

Do you want to finish that book, the one from Nanowrimo or
otherwise? Publish for the first time? Publish at a whole new, spectacular
level? Get that movie or TV series made?

This is the time for ALL those shimmering wishes.

And to help nudge the writers along, I’m going to start some
posts on rewriting. I have WHOLE BOOKS on writing, that you can conveniently order below. But here on the blog, since we’re into
that Nanowrimo Now What time of year, let’s focus on the rewriting part.

Here’s a general list of my best advice on rewriting to
start. You don’t have to read it now! You have shopping, and cooking, and
family, and probably some tax scrambling to do.

But it’s Solstice, so I’m planting the idea in your heads -
and wishing you a bright and bountiful harvest in the New Year.

Now that we've had some time off from the
frenzy of writing that was November, we need to get back to those drafts
and - yike - see what we've got.

Remember,
the most important thing is taking enough time off from that draft.
But now that you have taken the time off… how the hell do you proceed
with the second draft?

Well,
first you have to read the first draft. All the way through. Not
necessarily in one sitting (if that’s even possible to begin with!). I
usually do this in chunks of 50 pages or 100 pages a day – anything else
makes my brain sore.

I
picked up a tip from some book or article a long time ago about reading
for revisions, and I wish I could remember who said it to credit them,
because it’s great advice. Grab yourself a colored pen or pencil (or all
kinds of colors, glitter pens - go wild) and sit down with a stack of
freshly printed pages (sorry, it’s ungreen, but I can’t do a first
revision on a screen. I need a hard copy). Then read through and make
brief notes where necessary, but DO NOT start rewriting, and PUT THE PEN
DOWN as soon as you’ve made a note. You want to read the first time
through for story, not for stupid details that will interrupt your
experience of the story as a whole. You want to get the big picture –
especially – you want to see if you actually have a book (or film, if
that’s what you’re writing).

If
your drafts are anything like mine, there will be large chunks of
absolute shit. That’s pretty much my definition of what a first draft
is. X them out on the spot if you have to, but resist the temptation to
stop and rewrite. Well, if you REALLY are hot to write a scene, I guess,
okay, but really, unless you are totally, fanatically inspired, it’s
better just to make brief notes.

When
you’ve finished reading there should - hopefully! - be the feeling that
even though you probably still have massive amounts of work yet to do,
there is a book there. (I love that feeling…)

Once I’ve read through the entire thing, I make notes about my impressions, and then usually I will do a re-card (see The Index Card Method).
I will have made many scribbled notes on the draft to the effect of
“This scene doesn’t work here!” In some of my first drafts, whole
sections don’t work at all. This is my chance to find the right places
for things. And, of course, throw stuff out.

I
will go through the entire book again – going back and forth between my
pages and the cards on my story grid - and see where the story elements
fall. There is no script or book I’ve ever written that didn’t benefit
from a careful overview once again identifying act breaks, sequence
climaxes, and key story elements like: The Call to Adventure; Stating
the Theme; identifying the Central Question; Central Action and Plan;
Crossing the Threshold; Meeting the Mentor; the Dark Night of the Soul -
once the first draft is actually finished. A lot of your outline may
have changed, and you will be able to pull your story into line much
more effectively if you check your structural elements again and
continually be thinking of how you can make those key scenes more
significant, more magical.

(For
a quick refresher on Story Elements, skip down to #10 at the bottom of
this post, and the links at the end for more in-depth discussion.)

Also,
be very aware of what your sequences are. If a scene isn’t working, but
you know you need to have it, it’s probably in the wrong sequence, and
if you look at your story overall and at what each sequence is doing,
you’ll probably be able to see immediately where stray scenes need to
go. That’s why re-carding and re-sequencing is such a great thing to do
when you start a revision.

Now, the next steps can be taken in whatever order is useful to you, but here again are the Top Ten Things I Know About Editing.

1. Cut, cut, cut.

When
you first start writing, you are reluctant to cut anything. Believe me,
I remember. But the truth is, beginning writers very, very, VERY often
duplicate scenes, and characters, too. And dialogue, oh man, do
inexperienced writers duplicate dialogue! The same things happen over
and over again, are said over and over again. It will be less painful
for you to cut if you learn to look for and start to recognize when
you’re duplicating scenes, actions, characters and dialogue. Those are
the obvious places to cut and combine.

Some
very wise writer (unfortunately I have no idea who) said, “If it occurs
to you to cut, do so.” This seems harsh and scary, I know. Often I’ll
flag something in a manuscript as “Could cut”, and leave it in my draft
for several passes until I finally bite the bullet and get rid of it.
So, you know, that’s fine. Allow yourself to CONSIDER cutting something,
first. No commitment! Then if you do, fine. But once you’ve considered
cutting, you almost always will. It's okay if you bitch about it all the
way to the trash file, too - I always do.

2. Find a great critique group.

This
is easier said than done, but you NEED a group, or a series of readers,
who will commit themselves to making your work the best it can be, just
as you commit the same to their work. Editors don’t edit the way they
used to and publishing houses expect their authors to find friends to do
that kind of intensive editing. Really.

3. Do several passes.

Finish
your first draft, no matter how rough it is. Then give yourself a break
— a week is good, two weeks is better, three weeks is better than that —
as time permits. Then read, cut, polish, put in notes. Repeat. And
repeat again. Always give yourself time off between reads if you can.
The closer your book is to done, the more uncomfortable the unwieldy
sections will seem to you, and you will be more and more okay with
getting rid of them. Read on for the specific kinds of passes I
recommend doing.

For
a thriller: thrills and suspense. For a mystery: clues and misdirection
and suspense. For a comedy: a comedic pass. For a romance: a sex pass.
Or “emotional” pass, if you must call it that. For horror… well, you get
it.

I
write suspense. So after I’ve written that first agonizing bash-through
draft of a book or script, and probably a second or third draft just to
make it readable, I will at some point do a dedicated pass just to amp
up the suspense, and I highly recommend trying it, because it’s amazing
how many great ideas you will come up with for suspense scenes (or comic
scenes, or romantic scenes) if you are going through your story JUST
focused on how to inject and layer in suspense, or horror, or comedy, or
romance. It’s your JOB to deliver the genre you’re writing in. It’s
worth a dedicated pass to make sure you’re giving your readers what
they’re buying the book for.

5. Know your Three Act Structure.

If
something in your story is sagging, it is amazing how quickly you can
pull your narrative into line by looking at the scene or sequence you
have around page 100 (or whatever page is ¼ way through the book), page
200, (or whatever page is ½ way through the book), page 300 (or whatever
page is ¾ through the book) and your climax. Each of those scenes
should be huge, pivotal, devastating, game-changing scenes or sequences
(even if it’s just emotional devastation). Those four points are the
tentpoles of your story.

6.
Do a dedicated DESIRE LINE pass in which you ask yourself for every
scene: “What does this character WANT? Who is opposing her/him in this
scene? Who WINS in the scene? What will they do now?”

7.
Do a dedicated EMOTIONAL pass, in which you ask yourself in every
chapter, every scene, what do I want my readers to FEEL in this moment?

8.
Do a dedicated SENSORY pass, in which you make sure you’re covering
what you want the reader to see, hear, feel, taste, smell, and sense.

9. Read your book aloud. All of it. Cover to cover.

I
wouldn’t recommend doing this with a first draft unless you feel it’s
very close to the final product, but when you’re further along, the best
thing I know to do to edit a book — or script — is read it aloud. The
whole thing. I know, this takes several days, and you will lose your
voice. Get some good cough drops. But there is no better way to find
errors — spelling, grammar, continuity, and rhythmic errors. Try it,
you’ll be amazed.

10. Finally, and this is a big one: steal from film structure to pull your story into dramatic line.

Some
of you are already well aware that I’ve compiled a checklist of story
elements that I use both when I’m brainstorming a story on index cards,
and again when I’m starting to revise. I find it invaluable to go
through my first draft and make sure I’m hitting all of these points, so
here it is again, for those just finding this post.

STORY ELEMENTS CHECKLIST

ACT ONE

* Opening image

* Meet the hero or heroine

* Hero/ine’s inner and outer desire.

* Hero/ine’s problem

* Hero/ine’s ghost or wound

* Hero/ine’s arc

* Inciting Incident/Call to Adventure

*
Meet the antagonist (and/or introduce a mystery, which is what you do
when you’re going to keep your antagonist hidden to reveal at the end)

* State the theme/what’s the story about?

* Allies

* Mentor (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story).

* Love interest

* Plant/Reveal (or: Setups and Payoffs)

* Hope/Fear (and Stakes)

* Time Clock (possibly. May not have one or may be revealed later in the story)

* Sequence One climax

* Central Question

* Central Story Action

* Plan (Hero/ine's)

* Villain's Plan

* Act One climax

___________________________

ACT TWO

* Crossing the Threshold/ Into the Special World (may occur in Act One)

* Threshold Guardian (maybe)

* Hero/ine’s Plan

* Antagonist’s Plan

* Training Sequence

* Series of Tests

* Picking up new Allies

* Assembling the Team

* Attacks by the Antagonist (whether or not the Hero/ine recognizes these as being from the antagonist)

* In a detective story, questioning witnesses, lining up and eliminating suspects, following clues.

THE MIDPOINT

* Completely changes the game

* Locks the hero/ine into a situation or action

* Can be a huge revelation

* Can be a huge defeat

* Can be a “now it’s personal” loss

* Can be sex at 60 — the lovers finally get together, only to open up a whole new world of problems

______________________________

ACT TWO, PART TWO

*
Recalibrating — after the shock or defeat of the game-changer in the
Midpoint, the hero/ine must Revamp The Plan and try a New Mode of
Attack.

* Escalating Actions/ Obsessive Drive

* Hard Choices and Crossing The Line (immoral actions by the main character to get what s/he wants)

* Loss of Key Allies (possibly because of the hero/ine’s obsessive actions, possibly through death or injury by the antagonist).
* Visit to the Goddess

* A Ticking Clock (can happen anywhere in the story)

* Reversals and Revelations/Twists. (Hmm, that clearly should have its own post, now, shouldn't it?)

* The Long Dark Night of the Soul and/or Visit to Death (aka All Is Lost)

THE SECOND ACT CLIMAX

* Often can be a final revelation before the end game: the knowledge of who the opponent really is

* Answers the Central Question

_______________________________

ACT THREE

The
third act is basically the Final Battle and Resolution. It can often be
one continuous sequence — the chase and confrontation, or confrontation
and chase. There may be a final preparation for battle, or it might be
done on the fly. Either here or in the last part of the second act the
hero will make a new, FINAL PLAN, based on the new information and
revelations of the second act.

The essence of a third act is the final showdown between protagonist and antagonist. It is often divided into two sequences:

1. Getting there (storming the castle)

2. The final battle itself

* Thematic Location — often a visual and literal representation of the Hero/ine’s Greatest Nightmare

* The protagonist’s character change

* The antagonist’s character change (if any)

* Possibly allies’ character changes and/or gaining of desire
*
Could be one last huge reveal or twist, or series of reveals and
twists, or series of final payoffs you've been saving (as in BACK TO THE
FUTURE and IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE).

*
RESOLUTION: A glimpse into the New Way of Life that the hero/ine will
be living after this whole ordeal and all s/he’s learned from it.

This new workbook updates all the text in the first Screenwriting Tricks for Authors ebook with all the many tricks I’ve learned over my last few years of writing and teaching—and doubles the material of the first book, as well as adding sixmore full story breakdowns.

Sunday, December 03, 2017

YAY!!! You survived! Or maybe I shouldn’t make any assumptions, there.

But
for the sake of argument, let’s say you survived, not only what was
arguably the worst November in modern history, but Nanowrimo, too, and
now have a rough draft (maybe very, very, very rough draft) of about
50,000 words.

Well,
first of all, did you write to “The End”? Because if not, then you may
have survived, but you’re not done. You must get through to The End, no
matter how rough it is (rough meaning the process AND the pages…). If
you did not get to The End, I would strongly urge that you NOT take a
break, no matter how tired you are (well, maybe a day). You can slow
down your schedule, set a lower per-day word or page count, but do not stop. Write every day, or every other day if that’s your schedule, but get the sucker done.

You
may end up throwing away most of what you write, but it is a really,
really, really bad idea not to get all the way through a story. That is
how most books, scripts and probably most all other things in life worth
doing are abandoned.

Conversely, if you DID get all the way to “The End”, then definitely,take a break. As
long a break as possible. You should keep to a writing schedule, start
brainstorming the next project, maybe do some random collaging to see
what images come up that might lead to something fantastic - but if you
have a completed draft, then what you need right now is SPACE from it.
You are going to need fresh eyes to do the read-through that is going to
take you to the next level, and the only way for you to get those fresh
eyes is to leave the story alone for a while.

In the next month I'll be posting about rewriting. But not now.

First, no matter where you are in the process, celebrate! You showed up and have the pages to show for it.

Then -

1. Keep going if you’re not done

OR

2.
Take a good long break if you have a whole first draft, and if you MUST
think about writing, maybe start thinking about another project.

And in the meantime, I’d love to hear how you all who were Nanoing did.

STEALING HOLLYWOODThis new workbook updates all the text in the first Screenwriting Tricks for Authors ebook with all the many tricks I’ve learned over my last few years of writing and teaching—and doubles the material of the first book, as well as adding sixmore full story breakdowns.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

It's
the last day of #Nanowrimo. Next to the last. One of those. The thing
is, it doesn't REALLY matter. What matters is that you use the momentum
of this month to get your book done. That may very well NOT be tomorrow.
That's okay! Wherever you are is where you need to be.

But if you ARE in that endgame, let's talk about climaxes. Come
on, admit it - one of the great things about being writers is that we
get paid for them.

I
was watching “The Making of Jaws” the other night. I swear, the bonus
commentaries and docs like these are the best thing that EVER happened
for writers and film students.

Peter Benchley, the
author and co-screenwriter, was talking about the ending of the film. He
said that from the beginning of production Spielberg had been ragging
on him about the ending – he said it was too much of a downer. For one
thing, the visual wasn’t right – if you’ll recall the book, once Sheriff
Brody has killed the shark (NOT by blowing it up), the creature spirals
slowly down to the bottom of the sea.

Spielberg found
that emotionally unsatisfying. He wanted something bigger, something
exciting, something that would have audiences on their feet and
cheering. He proposed the oxygen tank – that Brody would first shove a
tank of compressed air into the shark’s mouth, and then fire at it until
he hit the tank and the shark went up in a gigantic explosion. Benchley
argued that it was completely absurd – no one would ever believe that
could happen. Spielberg countered that he had taken the audience on the
journey all this time – we were with the characters every step of the
way. The audience would trust him if he did it right.

And
it is a wildly implausible scene, but you go with it. That shark has
just eaten Quint, whom we have implausibly come to love (through the
male bonding and then that incredible revelation of his experience being
one of the crew of the wrecked submarine that were eaten one by one by
sharks). And when Brody, clinging to the mast of the almost entirely
submerged boat – aims one last time and hits that shark, and it explodes
in water, flesh and blood – it is an AMAZING catharsis.

Topped
only by the sudden surfacing of the beloved Richard Dreyfuss character,
who has, after all, survived. (in the book he died – but was far less
of a good guy.) The effect is pure elation.

Spielberg
paid that movie off with an emotional exhilaration rarely experienced
in a story. Those characters EARNED that ending, and the audience did,
too, for surviving the whole brutal experience with them. Brilliant
filmmaker that he is, Spielberg understood that. The emotion had to be
there, or he would have failed his audience.

This is a
good lesson, I think: above all, in an ending, the reader/audience has
to CARE. A good ending has an emotional payoff, and it has to be
proportionate to what the character AND the reader/audience has
experienced.

IT’S
A WONDERFUL LIFE is another terrific example of emotional exhilaration
in the end. Once George Bailey has seen what would have happened to his
little town if he had never been born, and he decides he wants to live
and realizes he IS alive again, the pleasures just keep coming and
coming and coming. It is as much a relief for us as for George, to see
him running through town, seeing all his old friends and familiar places
restored. And then to see the whole town gathering at his house to help
him, one character after another appearing to lend money, Violet
deciding to stay in town, his old friend wiring him a promise of as much
money as he needs – the whole thing makes the audience glad to be
alive, too. They feel, as George does, that the little things you do
every day DO count.

So underneath everything you’re
struggling to pull together in an ending, remember to step back and
identify what you want your reader or audience to FEEL.

Another
important component in an ending is a sense of inevitability – that it
was always going to come down to this. Sheriff Brody does everything he
can possibly do to avoid being on the water with that shark. He’s afraid
of the water, he’s a city-bred cop, he’s an outsider in the town – he’s
the least likely person to be able to deal with this gigantic creature
of the sea. He enlists not one but two vastly different “experts from
afar”, the oceanographer Hooper and the crusty sea captain Quint, to
handle it for him. But deep down we know from the start, almost BECAUSE
of his fear and his unsuitability for the task, that in the final battle
it will be Sheriff Brody, alone, mano a mano with that shark. And he
kills it with his own particular skill set – he’s a cop, and one thing
he knows is guns. It’s unlikely as hell, but we buy it, because in
crisis we all resort to what we know.

And it’s always a huge emotional payoff when a reluctant hero steps up to the plate.

It
may seem completely obvious to say so, but no matter how many allies
accompany the hero/ine into the final battle, the ultimate confrontation
is almost always between the hero/ine and the main antagonist, alone.
By all means let the allies have their own personal battles and
resolutions within battle – that can really build the suspense and
excitement of a climactic sequence. But don’t take that final victory
out of the hands of your hero/ine or the story will fall flat.

Also,
there is very often a moment when the hero/ine will realize that s/he
and the antagonist are mirror images of each other. And/or the
antagonist may provide a revelation at the moment of confrontation that
nearly destroys the hero/ine… yet ultimately makes him or her stronger.
(Think “I am your father” in THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK)

The
battle is also a chance to pay off all your setups and plants. Very
often you will have set up a weakness for your hero/ine. That weakness
that has caused him or her to fail repeatedly in previous tests, and in
the battle he hero/ine’s great weakness will be tested.

PLACE
is a hugely important element of an ending. Great stories usually, if
not almost always, end in a location that has thematic and symbolic
meaning. Here, once again, creating a visual and thematic image system
for your story will serve you well, as will thinking in terms of
SETPIECES (as we’ve talked about before) Obviously the climax should be
the biggest setpiece sequence of all. In SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, Clarice
must go down into the labyrinth to battle the monster and save the
captured princess. In JAWS, the Sheriff must confront the shark on his
own and at sea (and on a sinking boat!). In THE WIZARD OF OZ, Dorothy
confronts the witch in her own castle. In RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, Indy
must infiltrate the Nazi bunker. In PSYCHO, the hero confronts Tony
Perkins in his basement – with the corpse of “Mother” looking on.
(Basements are a very popular setting for thriller climaxes… that
labyrinth effect, and the fact that “basement issues” are our worst
fears and weaknesses).

And yes, there’s a pattern, here - the hero/ine very often has to battle the villain/opponent on his/her own turf.

A
great, emotionally effective technique within battle is to have the
hero/ine lose the battle to win the war. AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN did
this beautifully in the final obstacle course scene, where the arrogant
trainee Zack Mayo, who has always been out only for himself, sacrifices
his own chance to graduate first in his class to help a classmate over
the wall and complete the course, thus overcoming his own flaw of
selfishness and demonstrating himself to be true officer material.

Another
technique to build a bigger, more satisfying climax is is to have the
allies get THEIR desires, too – as in THE WIZARD OF OZ.

And
a particularly effective emotional technique is to have the antagonist
ma have a character change in the end of the story. KRAMER VS. KRAMER
did this exceptionally well, with the mother seeing that her husband has
become a great father and deciding to allow him custody of their son,
even though the courts have granted custody to her. It’s a far greater
win than if the father had simply beaten her. Everyone has changed for
the better.

Because CHANGE may just be the most
effective and emotionally satisfying ending of all. Nothing beats having
both Rick and Captain Renault rise above their cynical and selfish
instincts and go off together to fight for a greater good. So bringing
it back to the beginning – one of the most important things you can
design in setting up your protagonist is where s/he starts in the
beginning, and how much s/he has changed in the end.

I bet you all can guess the question for today! What are your favorite endings of screen and page, and what makes them great?

- Alexandra Sokoloff

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STEALING HOLLYWOOD

This new workbook updates all the text in the first Screenwriting Tricks for Authors ebook with all the many tricks I’ve learned over my last few years of writing and teaching—and doubles the material of the first book, as well as adding sixmore full story breakdowns.